what the…

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What I usually try in this blog with fictional pieces is: I pick a subtle point that catches my attention and try to blow it up in my imagination to put the same point across.

As an example, it’s only few months back that I wrote a fictional letter under the title Nyayam! One or two years ago, there was this love-turned-murder episode  in AP,  in which a gal’s parents were killed and the gal herself was severely injured. Not that such episodes come as total surprise. Somehow, it has become a normality with the frequency on rise. This particular episode kind of disturbed me. My worry was not that she lost her parents or was injured. My fear was how she would cope up with life, with a nightmare like reality haunting her all through. In fact, my worst fear was she wouldn’t be let to forget what had happened with her. That in mind, I attempted a tiny fictional piece on how she pleads the society to leave her alone.

Today, I came to know that the gal’s convict was handed with a life sentence, which resulted in bringing the gal’s family into news and discussions. Agitated for being in news for all wrong reasons, the gal’s younger sister committed suicide.. successfully!

Call me an emotional fool.. but this news has brought tears to my eyes. This is depressing for me. I’m not sorry for the family, anymore. I’m sorry for myself.. because of the society I live in.

I’m sorry for myself, because I’ve seen my worst fears in action.

PS: To anybody with a question as to why I should think so hard about it, why should I be spoiling my time and in turn, your time by writing this:  buzz off! I damn your presence here.

One comment

  1. We can do nothing but cry out loud
    with a hopeless hope
    that in this celebratory din of peeping tomery
    our tiny tinny voices are some how heard
    Goodluck to us all.


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